Plunged into the aftermath of an agonizing decision and with unfinished business she must still sort out, Elliott receives an unexpected request—and the childhood she thought she’d left behind comes back to haunt her.
And just as she begins to uncover the mysteries of her past, an ambitious stranger becomes a little too curious about her … and Jason. When circumstances bring them all together, Elliott will be forced to consider old and new alliances as she catapults towards an unknown future.
Dissolved is a story of the things that pull us apart, one bit at a time.
Plunged into the aftermath of an agonizing decision and with unfinished business she must still sort out, Elliott receives an unexpected request—and the childhood she thought she’d left behind comes back to haunt her.
And just as she begins to uncover the mysteries of her past, an ambitious stranger becomes a little too curious about her … and Jason. When circumstances bring them all together, Elliott will be forced to consider old and new alliances as she catapults towards an unknown future.
Dissolved is a story of the things that pull us apart, one bit at a time.
Shapeshifters in our own lives, strangers to ourselves, we are at once endemic inhabitants and mere fictions bargaining with truth.
The fractures within me had become obvious, those fault lines running along the very bones meant to orient us against the noise. But when my bleak disposition had become unbearably tedious and my grievances felt like little more than a bid at making the shallow sound profound, I grew determined to do things differently and, once and for all, to kill the intrusive presence haunting me, rather than just killing time.
When a circumstance is too horrific, it’s impossible to look at it in its totality. All you can do is catch a glimpse of the nightmare as you wait for the rest to slip away from consciousness long enough to catch a breath. But day after day, as reality trickled in, I had to come to terms with it: There is no greater loneliness than loving a man who has surrendered to his own frailties.
***
Two days after the fateful evening when I’d asked Jason to give me two weeks, I paid a visit to Alan’s house. It was under the pretext that I wanted to check in on him and offer some comfort, so I brought along a pot of minestrone soup that I would pass off as homemade to complete the disguise. There was no guarantee that his home wouldn’t be crawling with investigators, but my gamble paid off. It was a short visit, and I stayed just long enough to drink a cup of tea and express support. And to get what I came for.
I engaged him in conversation for a while before asking to use the restroom. There, I pulled a pair of latex gloves and two small paper bags from my jacket pocket. I put the gloves on and filled each bag with a cluster of hair from the two hairbrushes lying in the drawer under the sink. Returning to the living room with the bags and gloves stuffed into my deep pockets, I continued our chat, taking my leave shortly after his last swig from a bottle of diet cola. Offering to toss the plastic into the recycle bin by the curb, I grabbed it off the end table while he carried my empty cup into the kitchen. And after an awkward hug, I left.
I had no plan for how I’d make use of my forensic plunder, but I stored everything as properly as the internet told me I should. (Degradation, quantity of usable content, exposure to heat or humidity: there are many factors that can limit testing accuracy.) Hair samples should go into a sealed paper bag in an airtight dry place (a desiccant would help) and not into plastic, which creates static electricity. Biological materials need to be frozen when immediate analysis isn’t possible. Despite my worry that even a brief return to my apartment was a monumental risk, I needed to make use of the limited resources that I had. Up the elevator, down the hall, I was cautious as I entered and avoided turning on any lights. I closed the door behind me and waited … for anything.
“Hello?” I whispered, but the darkness remained silent. Under the illumination of the night-light in the kitchen, I dug out a couple of dry silica gel packs from some empty shipping boxes that I hadn’t thrown out yet. I put the bags with the hair samples and the silica gel packs into a small metal box that I used to store old keys, keychains, and pennies. I then found two more food containers hidden behind the colander in the poorly organized kitchen cabinet where I kept random cookware. One item per container, I secured the soda bottle and Cujo’s collar, then placed all three in my freezer, rearranging its contents so the containers were obscured by four large bags of frozen fish fillets and one tub of frozen berries.
The subsequent twelve days were nothing short of agony (level nine). But this span of time ushered in a bit of clarity. Instead of an aerosol of sensation, jumbled and diffused, my aching hand focused the pain like a prism in reverse, capturing and collecting the light it had once dispersed. And my head began to ease the unrest it had foisted upon me, allowing variations to emerge like an emulsion of oil and water requires stillness and time to separate into its distinct parts. And on the fourteenth day of our silent détente, while half listening to a panel of commentariat blathering on about events halfway around the globe, I made some version of a decision and sent Jason a text.
“I’ve kept to myself these days. And will continue to.”
I waited forty-eight hours for a response from him but never received one. It seemed that my cryptic communication was understood, or at least accepted, and for that I was relieved.
Between its financial cost and the discomfort of feeling like a regular fixture at a way station for the itinerant, my motel stay was destined to be short-lived. And after nearly three weeks of covert middle-of-the-night runs to secure provisions from my apartment—laptop and power cord here, clothes and toiletries there—I knew it was time for my next step. Which brings me to Paul. He knew I needed some time and space away from the reminders of all the horrible things that had happened. So out of the goodness of his heart, he unreservedly took me and Cujo in. It turned out to be a win for everyone. Cujo and Paul’s tortoiseshell cat Rustin became fast friends, and Paul’s penchant for colorful storytelling provided ample opportunity for me to immerse myself in his world to avoid drowning in the darkness of my own.
Part of me wanted to tell Paul everything, start to finish, and relieve myself of the solitary burden of the awful tangle I’d found myself in. But most of me wanted to push the cascade of memories, bookended by Abbie’s murder, somewhere deep within—somewhere that would hasten forgetting it all. Yet I couldn’t help but remember that there were unfinished things that still needed to be done, even if it was unclear what and how. So every time the impulse to disencumber myself bubbled up, I bottled it.
Thankfully, Paul was amenable to the need-to-know-only basis that I put him on. Whether or not he believed the reasons I gave him for the deterioration of my marriage, I’m not sure. I suppose it wouldn’t surprise me if he suspected more than he was letting on. In either case, the strain I was under was apparent, even if the cause was not. And he extended enough trust to accept that I must’ve had an authentic motive for being so secretive.
But the truth is, my motives weren’t even apparent to me. Despite my waning attachment to him, Jason’s twisted chivalry had managed to settle into some kind of antidote to the chaos of a nonsensical world. It was a distressing embodiment of my deepest fears: that I’d forever wander through the wreckage, unable to do anything but struggle with the permanent incompleteness of my capacity. In fits and starts, I’d envision a course of action, but by its conclusion, it never felt right, and I was back to zero. Almost two months of this had worn on me, and Paul noticed.
“Hey, mind if I come in?” he asked from the other side of the door.
“Yeah. Of course. Come on in.” I was in bed with my laptop, trying to read an explanation of the rules of legal evidence but failing to stay engaged.
“Have you eaten dinner?” He looked around, spotting the detergent and laundry bag full of unwashed clothes that had been unattended to since the last time he’d clocked it three days prior.
“Uh, yeah. I had some of the potatoes and chicken.” I closed my laptop and put it aside.
“Okay, well, that’s something. Do you want to maybe come out into the living room and spend some time with Cujo and me?” Upon hearing his name, Cujo trotted into the room and jumped onto the foot of the bed. “There’s the good boy.”
It wasn’t clear whether Cujo’s feelings towards me had changed or whether mine had. Guilt by association in the eyes of a sweet dog is a difficult thing to swallow, and I often found myself wondering if Cujo somehow understood that he was a living witness to the horror I’d aided and abetted. Whether he was distant because of my reticence or his own was unknown, but either way, it was a deep wound to bear.
“Hey, pup, is Rustin sleeping? Are you feeling bored?” I leaned over and scratched behind his ear.
“So, I’ve got an offer for you,” Paul began as he sat down next to Cujo. “My friend Oluchi recently finished some remodeling and upgrades on her house, which includes a very nice guest area. And don’t take this the wrong way—you know I love having you here—but I was wondering if you’d consider staying there for a bit. Just for a change of scenery. And I promise all she knows is you’re going through some things. I didn’t tell her much.”
“Oluchi? Your friend in Oregon?” I looked at Cujo and wondered if he also thought it was a good idea.
“You don’t have to, of course, but I’m worried. You’re in your head all the time. More so than usual. And I think you’d like Oluchi. What do you think? How about just leaving all this dreadful shit behind for a while?” Paul placed his hand on the blanket covering my foot and gave it a squeeze. “You know you are always welcome here. No matter what. I just worry that I’m a reminder too.”
I’d never been to Oregon, and it had never occurred to me that I should visit. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course,” he replied and rose from the bed. “Sleep on it. I’m gonna do some tidying up in the kitchen.” Cujo watched as Paul left, then put his head back down.
That night, I couldn’t escape a terrible memory. It was Jason—a sensitive, vulnerable Jason—with pleading eyes and slumped shoulders as he sat on the chair in my living room, his fragile voice barely above a whisper saying nothing more than “We could have a good life.” And the more times I recalled the memory, the more excruciating it became and the less sure I was that it had ever happened. The next morning, I told Paul I’d take him up on his offer.
The paralysis of wrestling with every version of Jason that I’d ever conceptualized, real or imagined, wasn’t doing me any good. My initial thought was that I wanted to be left alone in my grief and confusion. However, though feeling something was something, it wasn’t enough. So I decided to drive to Oregon and leave Cujo with Paul. It broke my already broken heart, but I told myself it was for the best and that Cujo and Rustin would have been devastated to part company for more than an hour anyway. Cujo would be in good hands. And I could be sure I’d get frequent video updates of him and his new friend snuggling and playing.
In Gutted, the first volume of Anna Madorsky’s Gutted, Dissolved, and Then Finished Trilogy, Elliot, a woman troubled by PTSD and frequent insomnia, meets Jason, a highly intelligent, temperamental stranger who shares many of her philosophical Nihilistic thoughts. The two become lovers and kindred spirits before Jason reveals that in moments of fury, he killed people in the past and still has the urge to kill again. Elliot is at first frightened but then is drawn to his aggressive energy and open contempt for people around them. They marry and she becomes complicit and eventually partners with him when he goes in for his latest kill: a man who brutally kidnapped, raped, and murdered her friend Abbie. Elliot helps Jason cover up the crime but their relationship has been significantly altered so she decides to take a break from their marriage. She won’t notify anyone but she can’t be with Jason right now. She leaves him to find a different life for herself.
Dissolved, the second volume is mostly about her time alone. If Gutted was a journey of Elliot discovering the dark side within herself and Jason and taking those dark sides to frightening levels, then Dissolved is about the opposite. It involves Elliot trying desperately to return to normalcy or perhaps embracing it for the first time.
To maintain distance between herself and Jason, Elliot offers to house-sit for Oluchi, friend of a friend in Portland. In this new location, she makes new friends and becomes a different person. Unfortunately, she can’t stay away from Jason for too long and the two reunite. Their reunion brings back their actions and unresolved conflicts and Elliot has to either leave Jason to his own devices or return to their “Bonnie-and-Clyde” escapades.
In the previous book, Elliot lived in a cloak of darkness. She was still scarred with the traumas of her past and her mind was fogged from sleepless nights and damaging memories. She became easily susceptible to Jason’s manipulations, intellectual rhetoric, and pressing dark souled charisma.
She thought that she found someone who shared her pessimistic views of the world until he revealed that he had been purposely stalking her. What he needed was a partner to share and facilitate these dark urges to commit murder. She was an outsider to everyone but to Jason and began to embrace a complete isolation from the world and a detachment to its laws and standards.
Dissolved is about the same woman trying her damned best to join that world that she once felt isolated from. Elliot invigorates her friendships by becoming more involved in their issues. In the previous book, she displayed some empathy for a coworker having trouble with her aging mother, and a couple of friends that are having marital problems. Most prominently, her concern for Abbie is what motivates her and Jason's rage and desire for murder. But her interactions with them conveyed world weary detachment as though she viewed them through thick glass, observing and feeling but up to a point.
However, she blossoms in Portland. She bonds with Oluchi enough to give her some information about her marriage (though not all of it). An elderly neighbor, Josephine treats her like a surrogate daughter. Rav and Yesenia, a fighting married couple, are put into her confidence.
Rav and Yesenia’s subplot proves an interesting contrast to Elliot and Jason. Rav and Yesenia's fights are loud, emotional, and almost darkly comic like a realistic sitcom with a hard edge. In other words, they are the type of couple that Elliot and Jason tried to avoid becoming. Rav and Yesenia's marriage conflicts are all outward while Elliot's and Jason's are inward.
Also Rav proves to be a contrast to Elliot herself especially when Jason returns. Just as Elliot sees Jason as a means to share her trauma and her grief, Rav sees them as a means to reflect his own aggressions and irritations. He is drawn to their shadow presence as much as Elliot had been to Jason. Looking at it now from the outside, she recognizes the harm and toxicity to the relationship but also is aware of her own longing for Jason's presence once more even as she tries to reject him.
Elliot also has a potential second love interest in Caspian, a bookseller. It isn't quite a romance but it is a deep respectful friendship. Caspian is an alternative to Jason. Like Jason he is highly intelligent, speaks of philosophical, metaphysical, and literary concepts, and causes Elliot to look inward. However he does so in a more positive way that seeks to better her not pull her down to a lower level as Jason does.
Normally, I don't care for love triangles but this is one that actually kind of works because of what Jason and Caspian represent to Elliot. Jason opened up her outsider status and encouraged her to acknowledge her darker angrier side, the side that had been hurt, hates the world, and wants to pass that hurt along to someone else.
Caspian wants to encourage Elliot's softer, more empathetic side, the type that wants to be loved and surrounded by loving, understanding people. Elliot opens up to share her thoughts about poetry, literature, and finding creative means to express her emotions. Caspian gives her possibilities to see past that hurt and find a way to move on from it. He opens up the insider status and the desire to belong and be accepted
Another way that Elliot expresses the desire to belong is through her family. In the previous book, Elliot was abused by or estranged from her immediate family. She was left isolated without anyone close to her, no positive examples to learn from leaving her alone and vulnerable.
Now she learns that her father died and she makes an attempt to reconcile with her mother who lives in Australia with her younger brothers. Elliot recognizes her own wasted effort at a reunion when the woman turns her back on her daughter while justifying choosing her sons over her.
Instead Elliot actually does discover a found family in her Aunt Ava, her father's sister. She runs a New Age shop, reads Tarot Cards, and gives Elliot maternal advice about love and relationships. She is the older feminine guide that Elliot needed all along. It's particularly intriguing that she finds this familial link while separated from Jason. Without Jason her circle has widened but with him, it was severely limited.
You will notice in my review that I don't refer to Elliot and Jason's romance much but refer to other characters. That's because Jason isn't in it as much as the others. In his frequent absence from the narrative, other characters take prominent roles in Elliot’s life. She seems to be doing alright without him. For a time.
When Jason returns, Elliot realizes how much she missed that intense passion between them and their unique relationship in a world of two. She also is more suspicious of him and receives non-answers when she asks if he killed anyone else since they have been apart. She wonders if her presence was able to satisfy his bloodlust or at least redirect it to people who they felt deserved to die like abusers and rapists.
She is torn between the man that proved to be a dangerous killer and the man that she feels understands her the most. Even though she worked very hard at improving herself since their separation, she still has traces of that sad, mentally scarred, traumatized young woman that Jason met. The more she tries to deny their connection, the harder that it is to resist him.
Gutted revealed that Elliot was figuratively cut open when Jason explored her vulnerabilities. Dissolved reveals the tug of war between Elliot's personas: law or lawlessness, inner peace or outward violence, belonging or isolation, love or loneliness, society or outsider, burying her painful past or letting it consume her, being a decent person helping others or a violent criminal creating someone else's pain. Eventually, one or the other persona is going to have to dissolve, leaving only one.